Potter's Champion
by aurora.kelly
Summary: A wizard comes and demands Harry's hand through an archaic rite. Will Draco have what it takes to be his champion?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and no money is being made from this story.

 **Chapter 1:**

The Great Hall was filled with a cacophony of voices and sounds as students reunited themselves with their friends and the delicacies that Hogwarts provided. The spring holiday had been a short but needed break. Draco glanced around the Great Hall and was struck with just how happy everyone looked. It was mere months since the threat of Voldemort had nearly closed the school, and yet, looking at the student body now, you would never was the good thing about children, they were adaptable. Even the first years in his own house looked young to him now. Everyone seemed to take the radical changes to their lives, and the world, in stride.

Draco sat between Pansy and Blaise with Crabbe and Goyle squished on the bench across the table. After Dumbledore's predictable welcome back speech, the student body began eating with a vigor matched only by the incessant gossiping.

"You think they'll lift the ban on quidditch?" Vaisey, a lackluster chaser in Draco's opinion, called from across the table.

Draco shrugged but adrenaline was already shooting through him. There were few things that excited him more than quidditch.

"There's no reason not to." Pansy responded, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Crabbe and Goyle nodded but said nothing, speaking would have required that they stopped eating.

"I bet - ," Blaise started but was cut off when the doors to the Great Hall suddenly swung open. The heavy doors crashed against the stone walls and Draco was irrily reminded of Mad Eye Moody's similar entrance. A single Wizard stode out of the darkness and into the hall. Unlike when Mad Eye had stumbled into the welcome feast three years prior, this wizard's gait was purposeful, his entrance almost calculated. Draco couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about an unknown wizard entering the Great Hall in the middle of dinner seemed odd, unless he had some ulterior motive.

"There's no empty chair at the head table." Blaise continued, as if that was what he was going to comment on from the beginning. Before anyone else had a change to speculate, the wizard was already revealing his hand, and wand.

The tip of the wizard's wand glowed blood red as he quickly trased wards in the air. Draco's heart nearly stopped, was that sequence what he thought it was?

Magic seemed to ooze from him has he finished moving he wand and said, "As Lord of the house Casimir by the rite of Damsel Courtian I claim the magic, body, and hand of Sir Harry Potter." As soon as the words were out of his lips he lifted a circular gold necklace from his cloak. "Harry, come forward and take my hand."

Draco felt his insides go cold as he worked to school his face into a mask of indifference. A quick glance around the great hall showed students torn between looks of confusion and horror at the wizard's declaration. Those of muggle born descent naturally had no idea of the significance of his words, nor did they have a clue of what his short, but impassioned speech would set in motion.

Draco found himself staring, as everyone else in the hall was, towards the boy who lived himself, who seemed frozen in his seat an unreadable expression on his face. From the moment he walked through the doors of Hogwarts this boy had faced down challenges that would make a lesser wizard crumble, and even before that, if you took into account his defeat of the Dark Lord as an infant. Speaking of said Dark Lord, Harry had taken on perhaps the greatest Dark Lord of all time, more than one time, and had miraculously lived to tell the tale _every_ time.

His badge of Gryffindor honor, and notable history, would likely stop Harry from feeling scared by the sudden appearance of a virtually unknown person claiming his life. It certainly could not have been the first time someone had tried to claim Harry's life both in the literal sense of death or even in the romantic sense. As savior of the wizarding world there were people falling over themselves for a drop of his affection, or a moment of his time. Draco frowned, while Harry was likely not frightened by the wizards declaration, he should be scared. One look at the head table showed his own horror mirrored on nearly all of their professors faces.

This was different than asking him out on a date, this was even different than demanding him out on a date, Lord Casimir called on his rank by right of magic to formally request a courtship bond. By approaching Dumbledore, publicly acting as Potter's magical guardian, Lord Casimir was completely within his right. Perhaps the worst part, Draco was sure that Harry had absolutely no idea what it meant.

In modern society, dating is loose, informal affair where two people could get to know one another, start, and end the association at will. However courting in the wizarding world is a highly structured activity, with very specific formal rules. There are steps, traditions, gestures, rules all bound and forced by magic. A courtship bond was like a maze wrapped in an unbreakable vow ending only when a different vow, a marriage vow, was made.

Though largely out of favor now, historically the courtship period of any association was considered paramount, and would literally make or break reputations and families. The Damsel Courtian rite was archaic, and such a public confrontation could not have happened in years. Draco once again glanced around the hall. Only a Lord holding the title of head of house could make a claim, and unless the claim was dishonorable, it could not be disputed. Even the ancient and sexiest society of old would not want Lords to have the ability of forcibly bonding or taking control of people against their will so of course, there was a way out of this, but it would be nearly impossible especially since Potter and Dumbledore had no preparation, or knowledge of the ritual in the former's case.

A Lord of equal or greater standing could challenge the claim and act as the damsel's champion. The Damsel Courtain was only used to try to gain control of someone of strong social standing, so if another Lord could stand champion, the situation would not be born. This is where Harry was in trouble. Dumbledore was undoubtedly one of the most influential and powerful wizards in the world, no would deny him that, but Draco could tell by looking on his right hand that he wore no Lordship ring and would not be able to counter the claim. Harry was heir to the head of both house Potter and house Black, and in a few short months, he would hold the honors that title would bestow upon him. However, as he was still sixteen, Harry was still magically and legally considered a minor. If he could claim the titles he could be his own champion, but even then, he would have to fight the claim.

Draco involuntarily found his eyes raking around the room. While there were many influential families present, the specific criteria left no one to stand for Harry. Oh, Draco was sure that if they could any number of people would want to stand for him, but that person would not only need to already hold the title of head of household but know the Damsel Courtain rite's intricacies to make sure they did not die in the process.

Draco's thoughts were moving so fast he felt like time was moving in slow motion. Had Lord Casimir really just issued his claim moments before? He saw Harry stand and it took all his willpower for Draco stopped himself from protesting. Legally Harry had to accept the claim; there was no one to stand for him. He did not know why it bothered him so much. There was no love lost between the two of them. They had bickered and fought all six years they had known each other, and Harry was responsible for the death of his Father mere months before when Harry had amazingly overthrown not only the Dark Lord but all those in his inner circle. He should not care about what fate befell the scrawny form of his self-proclaimed arch nemesis. It just did not seem fair.

There was something truly frustrating about seeing someone give so much of themselves to all those around them, and instead of being able to live his life once he had completed the herculean task presented to him, the rest of his life and identity was being snatched from him. Harry had always done the impossible, saving himself and all those around him, only to find himself in a situation where he was not even given the opportunity to save himself. He wasn't even granted the opportunity to try.

Draco stared across to the Gryffindor table willing one of them to stand.

"Bloodly mudbloods and blood traitors." Blaise muttered. Draco silently nodded to the boy next to him. There were no Lords among the lions who could stand as champion for Harry. There was not anyone in the hall who could. Well that was not completely true. There was no one in the hall that Draco could watch stand for Harry, but the irony of it all almost made Draco laugh out loud.

At the death of his father by Potter's own hand, he had become the head of house Malfoy. Draco tapped his right hand against his leg feeling the ring resting on his fourth finger. He could stand now and he, Draco Malfoy, could try to save the savior of the wizarding world. Try being a keyword. Even the mere thought of what that action would mean made Draco want to run from the hall. His strength had never been in the form of confrontation or brave bold acts. He worked and moved in the shadows and was actually in many ways grateful Harry had overthrown the Dark Lord, if only to spare him the indignity his cowardice would surely have brought him had he followed in his father's footsteps and served in the Dark Lord's ranks.

Harry's footsteps sounded like the pounding of a drum as he slowly made his way to the front of the room. Damn it! There was not time! He had seconds to move, seconds to act. Why should he risk his skin? Why should he try to save the boy who had driven him crazy and constantly bested him despite all Draco did?

But there was no one else.

Before he could talk himself out of it Draco stood up quickly from the table and dropped his wand from his sleeve into his hand. Before he could utter the spell on his lips Pansy grabbed hold of his robe.

"You intend to do this?" She said breathlessly, so quietly Draco was not sure if he had heard her speak, or if he imagined the words.

Without answering the real or imagined question, he stepped back away from the table and turned to face the Lord Casimir. Draco only somewhat succeeded in stopping his voice from shaking as he clearly spoke, "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and the necklace, which truthfully looked more like a collar, went flying out of Casimir's hand. A splattering of laughter and whispers swept through the room at the look of horror on Casimir's face. Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but Draco did not dare get distracted from the task ahead of him.

Almost involuntarily, he felt his hand inscribing the needed wards in the air with his wand. Similar to the once Casimir had used moments before. Draco murmured the words his father had drilled into him and he tried not to think. Is this how people feel when they do heroic things, light headed and nauseous?

As he finished the final downstroke of his wand a thrumming sounds seemed the seep from him and fill the room around.

"Oh my goodness your challenge was accepted!" Pansy said once again trying to grab hold of Draco. "You're magically bound to –."

"Stay back!" Blaise interrupted her, swatting away her hand. "He's not done and well..." Blaise's words trailed off once again.

Draco let his characteristic smirk slide across his face. He rolled his shoulders back and strutted to the front of the great hall. He hid all of his fears behind the Malfoy mask his Father beat into him through countless hours of lessons and punishments. He had been bred and born to be a purebred lord and wizard. Who was Lord Casimir compared to Lord Malfoy?


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: A wizard comes and demands Harry's hand through an archaic rite. Will Draco have what it takes to be his champion?

Disclaimer: All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and no money is being made from this story.

 **Chapter 2:**

Draco felt the cold stares of his classmates' burn through his skin like liquid nitrogen. Without his gaze leaving the man in front of him Draco began casting the spells he needed. He had fourteen hours to present his own intention to Harry. Draco had been drilled to keep a Malfoy intention ring in his possession and had Casimir presented Harry with a ring he could counter immediately. As it were, he would need to fetch the required necklace from Gringotts and present it to Harry with an equal or greater audience prior to the deadline or his counter would but considered null and Casimir's dubious claim would be reinstated.

Slitting his palm with a cutting hex he summoned his personal house elf from Malfoy manor. Not risking to look at the head table, given the dark inclination of his spell, Draco silently prayed Dumbledore would value Harry over calling him out for any illegal actions.

"Tergeo." Draco spoke aloud as he shrugged off his school robes. He had bought himself as much time as he could.

"Lord Malfoy." Casimir's voice sounded manic as he raked his eyes over Draco's form. Draco found himself smirking again. Unlike the man in front of him, he needed no introduction. Thank Merlin Draco had taken after his father in height. That was one of the few qualities he was glad he had inherited from his father. Standing at 1.9 meters with his body fit from quidditch Draco knew he did not look like a feeble opponent. Hopefully he could follow through on that.

Casimir, while not a household name in Britain, was well known in the elite classes and held substantial weight in France. While Draco had not recognized his appearance, he knew the name. Was he a better dueler? That Draco did not know. Judging by the ware shown on the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt he was at minimum well practiced. Despite his inner distress at not fulling knowing the abilities of his opponent, not to mention the audience this spectacle had, Draco maintained a cool facade.

With a crack his personal house elf Lacy appeared at his side. House Thank Merlin elf magic allowed her to apparate within Hogwarts.

"Master Draco needs his sword?" The elf squeaked, reaching out the jewel covered scabbard. He could hear the whispers of his again, Draco was suddenly pleased his father insisted he have the best sword money could buy, covered in enough jewels to buy a small mansion. It's gaudiness might just prove useful. If only for entertainment.

Once Draco had picked up the sword from Lacy's arms the small elf snapped, summoning a dragon hide cloak laced in silver and branded with the Malfoy crest. Once Draco slipped on the cloak, Casimir could throw down the gauntlet, and the duel would begin.

"Lacy, alert my Mother, tell her I will need the courtship necklace from the vaults, and all additional necessities by tomorrow morning. Report to me once this is done." Draco ordered the elf, and with a nod she disapperated.

Draco knew that if he stalled anymore he would would lose his nerve, so he slipped on the cloak, unsheathed his sword, and brandished his wand. He never dreamed that he would thank his father so many times in one day, but his Father, and Bellatrix's unconventional dueling lessons might just save him, and Harry bloody Potter, tonight.

The rules of the Champion's Duel for the Damsel Courtain rite were perhaps the simplest part of the rite. Both magical and physical attacks were allowed but Draco could only win by killing his opponent or forcing him to yield. Harming or killing a spectator was irrelevant, however, if he were to accidentally harm, the intended, Potter, he would lose the duel and forfeit his life. The same criteria applied to Casimir.

Turning to face Casimir, Draco bowed, and the duel began.

Before Draco could even lift his head, Casimir was lunging towards him with his blade.

"Protego," Draco said quietly, side stepping for good measure. He had been practicing casting wordlessly all year, but perhaps out of fear that he would not be able to cast, he could not stop himself from saying the spell.

Their swords clashed again and again. Casimir's appeared to be a bit heavier, and it took more strength than Draco would have liked to defer the blade. Casimir relied much more heavily on his sword than his wand, something Draco attempted to take advantage of by herling any spell he could think of towards Casimir. Though still in school, it was clear Draco had the advantage when it came to spell casting, if only because he had a wider arsenal of spells to pull from.

"Go Draco!" Pansy shouted from the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. Similar calls of encouragement, meddled with confused conversation echoed through the Hall filling the air with a near roaring sound.

Rather than ignoring the crowd, Draco tried to feed on it. Most of the students who hated him, loved Potter, and whether or not they knew what was happening, they knew that Draco was was fighting for Potter. Everyone in the hall was on his side. Every cheer gave him confidence, and a purpose.

"End it Draco." someone shouted from the crowd. The harshness made Draco shiver despite the situation at hand.

Contrary to what many Gryffindor's may think, Draco had never killed anyone. He knew it was counterproductive to let his mind wander when he was fighting for his very life, but he couldn't help but wonder. If necessary, could he do it? If he could not force Casimir to resign he would need to. This was old magic. No one would fault him for Casimir's death, if he did in fact kill him, but somehow even that knowledge didn't quell the uneasy feeling in Draco's gut. Draco risked a glance towards the head table. Dumbledore, for all his oddities, sat still with a stern expression. Yet there was a curious sparkle in his eye.

Casimir's sword came sweeping forward, grazing Draco's shoulder. Cursing to himself, Draco attempted to get his mind back on the task at hand. He did need to end this.

"Wouldn't it be nice if he just decided to impale himself on his own sword?" Draco murmured to himself. Which made him come up with the craziest idea. He head was throbbing, so any idea he had now was likely not out of brilliance, but rather desperation. Although he tried not to dwell on that thought. His whole body hurt, especially his right shoulder and knee, both of which were bleeding quite profusely. Clearly Casimir had been going for his wand arm.

Using whatever strength he had left Draco repelling Casimir's sword and tried to take as many steps back as he could. Limping slightly every time his right leg had to hold his weight. He needed to force Casimir to raise his sword. As if on cue, once there was a reasonable distance between them Casimir raised his sword and came charging towards Draco. Aiming quickly Draco cast, "Alarte ascendare!"

Just as when Lockhart had cursed the snake Draco himself had conjured his second year, Casimir's sword flew into the air. The Hall erupted in laughter as Casimir looked around frantically for his sword. Once spotting it in the air he began sporting a look akin to that of a goldfish and threw up no shield to block Draco's next spell.

"Petrificus totalus." Draco said almost halfheartedly. To win the duel he need only use spells he had learned in his first few years at Hogwarts. What did that say of his skill level?

As if he had instantaneously become a statue, Casimir's arms came to his sides and he fell forward onto his face. His sword fell moments later and lodged itself into his thigh. It was a gruesome sight. Draco released him from the body bind.

Casimir's screams of pain pierced the room cutting through the chatter like a hot knife through butter. "I yield! I yield!" He screeched, while frantically trying to reach the back of his thigh to dislodge the sword.

Draco had to look away.

He could faintly hear people around him clapping and saying his name but everything in the room appeared to be swaying. He locked his knees. Despite winning the duel his counter was not yet complete. He could present the intention necklace tomorrow, as long as Potter received it within the allotted time, but Potter needed to accept him as his champion, tonight. That thought was sobering enough that he was able to catch his breath. He needed to propose to Potter, and Potter needed to accept his hand. He had to choose his next words carefully.

Looking towards the Gryffindor table it was easy to spot Potter's mess of black hair and shining green eyes. Eyes that seemed to sear his skin, even from across the room.

"Harry James Potter," Draco started carefully. He wasn't sure his body could cast another spell, but he needed to put his sword away before addressing Potter, and he would never put a bloody sword in his scabbard. _Scourgify_ Draco thought carefully, he'd rather the spell did not work due to world-less casting than he humiliate himself by saying the spell and it fail regardless. Magically the sword was cleaned and Draco did not hesitate to return it to the scabbard on his belt.

Draco nearly cursed again and he could feel a crimson blush creep up his cheeks. Draco's words had silenced all those around him, and he could see everyone was waiting for what he would say next. Which was the problem. What would he say next? Historically this would be the time where Draco confessed undying love, and pledged to honor and serve as champion. Somehow he didn't think that would get Potter to accept his hand. Running through the requirements of the courtship in his head Draco tried to find the root of what he needed to say. He needed to address the intended by name, confess feelings, and pledge his aid, and he needed to do it before he passed out from blood loss.

Taking a deep breath Draco started again, "Harry James Potter, regardless what I may have said to the contrary, I don't particularly want you dead or captured." Chuckles spread throughout the room, but Draco continued before any conversation could start.

"I want to help. Will you accept my aid?" Draco finished, switching his wand to his left hand, he reached out his right, extending it towards Potter.

Whether it was because he was long past feeling panicked or that his emotions had just gone numb Draco could not even find it in himself to be worried that Potter would refuse his outstretched hand. Despite Potter refusing that same hand back in their first year. Rather, he willed Potter to use some of that Gryffindor courage and accept his aid. He tried to keep his face neutral as his eyes met the questioning look in those unnaturally green eyes.

He had purposely phrased his question in such a way to imply that he wanted to help Potter not try to own him like Casimir had clearly wanted. That he was looking out for him. This had to be confusing, but Draco was counting on Potter's tendency to jump first and look later.

Slowly, Potter looked away, for a moment Draco felt his heart stop. Would he turn him down? Did Potter even know what that would mean? What a grave insult his rejection would be not only for the house of Malfoy, but to Draco himself?

Before Draco could even process what was happening, Potter looked back up from his shoes and timidly walked over and touched his hand. Without so much as breathing, Draco looked down at Potter and watched as he carefully placed his hand in Draco's. Potters hands were cold.

 **Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far! I have always been fascinated by courting rituals as well has stories where Draco and Harry are forced to be together so I thought it would be fun to try to write one. Please follow and review. 3**


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